


Restless

by sternflammenden



Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: BDSM, Humiliation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:24:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternflammenden/pseuds/sternflammenden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kushiel's Sovreign Duc likes to take care of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restless

**Author's Note:**

> Set before Marmion is brought to court to answer for his crimes.
> 
> My first Kushiel AND non-ASOIAF fic.

He chafed at first at the bonds, rough hemp bound about his wrists, lashing him to the bars of the cross. Marmion closed his eyes as his sovereign Duc tightened his restraints, breath whisper-soft against his ear, a hot cheek pressing momentarily against his own. It was that betrayal of emotion that gave him hope that the older man might relent, that he might in his own way show more mercy than what was allowed. More mercy, considering the circumstances, than what was deserved.

He shuddered as the lash descending onto his back, muscles recoiling and trembling at the kiss of the metal barbs, the touch of the leather. Quincel meant to wound, and so he did, bringing the instrument down again and again, until tears of shame and pain streaked Marmion’s face, its usual elegant pallor disfigured by the riotous flush that spread with the tears. Despite himself, despite his disgrace, his loss, everything, he was aroused. Terribly aroused.

When he was at last freed, he collapsed in a shuddering heap, arms wound about himself, back bared to the cool air of the small chamber, the weals catching the breeze and lightening into a new sensation of pain. His hands cradled his hardness, the ache spreading deliciously to his lower belly. It was all that he could think of.

It was then that he felt the Duc’s gloved hand on his shoulder.

“Get up,” Mohrban said softly in his ear, although there was a steely undertone to his words. Make no mistake, it was a command.

On watery, legs, Marmion made his way to the mattress on the other side of the room, guided by his captor, his lord, his sovereign, and collapsed there, thanking Elua, no Kushiel, that his representative on earth was able to show mercy, or at least what passed for it.

“We are not finished,” Mohrban said, his voice eerie in the stillness.

Despite himself, Marmion whimpered.

His protestations died away when hands gripped his waist, pulling him close, Mohrban’s lips brushing the wounds that he had earlier gifted. “It is proper,” he said softly, hands reaching for Marmion in the dim light. “After chastisement comes absolution, is it not so?”

Marmion had to admit that he had the right of it, and when he was taken, despite the force behind it, he had to admit that it was sweet in its own way.


End file.
